


Abanbidgîn

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: Agnu Ra Nutû [52]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, GFY, Gen, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Gender Roles, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2649521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He will see the sun rise over the Ephel Dúath to paint the walls of Minas Tirith in red and gold and brilliant, glowing white, one last time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abanbidgîn

"I had once thought to die defending the city I was born in, and bled for." Denethor leans heavily on the sturdy cane he's been using for nearly six years, his body steadily weakening at the onslaught of age. "A last stand against the Enemy. Not this slow death of years."

"You were invited to join in the Moria Campaign." His companion stays where she has been this entire time. "You had the chance to let yourself fall in battle."

Denethor lets out a huff, one corner of his mouth curling up in a smile that holds a bitter edge. "To be accorded a hero's tomb far from home. A great honor, perhaps, but not one I desire, then or now." He lets out a quiet sigh, closing his eyes against the view he's been watching more with each passing day, as he feels the chill of the grave creep up on him. "I will make the journey to Mundburg, niece. To Minas Tirith, and my waiting tomb, no matter how humble a grave it might be."

"Uncle Faramir will not let it be an unknown one, even if he has to ask a favor of Prince Kíli to see it done."

"Already he has asked." The letter from Kíli had been a request if he desired a dwarven-built tomb where Faramir had asked it to be placed. Denethor had not dared to ask where that might be, and had given his permission blindly. He will see what Faramir and Kíli have wrought for him before he dies, and he will see the sun rise over the Ephel Dúath to paint the walls of Minas Tirith in red and gold and brilliant, glowing white, one last time.

Drawing in a breath, he opens his eyes to look over the comfortable gardens that hide the scars Saruman had left on Isengard for a long moment before turning away. This last idle on his journey ends.

"Tell Master Gimli we will leave in the morning, Ealdwine."

* * *

Looking out from the tomb carved into the rocks high above the city, Elboron watches the sun rise as he waits for his parents and the others to make their way up the narrow path with grandfather, so Denethor can see the tomb. His cousin is the only other one still up here, and Ealdwine is still sitting next to the as yet empty crypt, trying to read the inscription. He could tell her what Prince Kíli had told him it meant, but she'd asked him to let her work it out herself - she'd learned the dwarvish language when she'd gone north to foster in Dale.

Movement draws his attention to the path, where there's a single figure coming up, swift as a good horse over even ground. Lady Tauriel, then, though alone rather with Prince Kíli as she usually is.

He pushes to his feet, brushing rock dust off his tunic so he's presentable by the time she stops in front of him. "Lady Tauriel."

"Lord Elboron." Tauriel tilts her head a moment, before looking past him toward the tomb. "Your cousin?"

"Is reading the inscription Prince Kíli put on grandfather's tomb. She wants to be able to read it to him when he comes to see it."

Tauriel is silent a moment, before she gestures for him to precede her into the tomb. Ealdwine is where Elboron had left her, a candle in hand as she works through the bands of runes carved into the stone. She looks up when they come in, and pales a little when she looks past Elboron to Tauriel. As if she has read something in the elf's face that Elboron had missed.

"Kíli showed him the sketches last night, and was telling him what they meant." Tauriel's voice is gentle, in a way Elboron has never heard before, and Ealdwine lets out a soft cry. "Éowyn asked me to fetch you, that you may do the honor to your uncle's father as you promised."

"Of course." There's a roughness in Ealdwine's voice, and the candle in her hand trembles as she sets it aside, carefully, to the side of the crypt. "Cousin." She looks over at Elboron, her eyes bright in the candlelight. "Keep the watch. Please."

"Until you return." He pauses, reaching out to touch Ealdwine's shoulder lightly, and she reaches up to grip his hand a moment in her own. "Tell him goodbye for me."

It has to be some ill befallen his grandfather, that he has only met twice in his life, and doesn't know as well as his father would have liked him to. He is not certain what the ill is, but he fears it is a final one, and that he will not see his grandfather again in the world.

Ealdwine nods silently, passing by him to follow Tauriel from the tomb, and down the path that leads to the Rath Dinen and into Minas Tirith.

* * *

Gimli stands to one side of the carven entrance to the tomb, his hands resting on the great ax he had borne up the mountain ahead of the funeral procession. He knows Prince Kíli stands on the far side, that there is an elf above them where she has the best sight-lines to keep those inside safe as they say their last farewells to their kin. He has never been certain of either, but it feels fitting they are all here to make their own farewells to the great man who had held the line against the Enemy in Gondor in the last days of the Age.

He himself had only met Denethor after the great battles had past, and the man was living in the halls of Erebor as a guest of King Fíli.

A man strong beyond the notions of Men, to bear up when they would have cast him down for knowing his soul better than his own body had in the making.

A warrior of cunning and skill, who shared that knowledge when it was needed for the safety of the Mountain, because it was a home as much as the city he'd been banished from.

And a father aching for the loss of his sons, who had found some measure of peace in watching out for those sons of Men and Khazâd who had lost their fathers to the Enemy.

Gimli thinks of all those that Denethor has aided, knowing or unknowing, and wonders at the Men of Minas Tirith and of Gondor, that they could cast him out simply because his body did not match his soul. That they would deny him a tomb among his fathers because he had the strength to be himself, rather than suffer under the yoke of a body that did not suit him. Would have, without the stubborn nature of Lord Faramir, even have denied him the peace of dying in the city in which he'd been born, the city which he had called home for so much of his life.

Snorting to himself, Gimli settles his stance a little more firmly, watching the path to make sure no one comes to disturb Denethor's kin with any such pettiness. And when they have said their goodbyes, he will help Prince Kíli to properly seal the tomb, with a door that will not be pried open by Men seeking to do harm, or any other save one of Durin's line.

It is the greatest gift he can give to Denethor, a Man who had some measure of the Khazâd in his soul.

**Author's Note:**

> Title means "tomb".  
> Khazâd means "dwarves".


End file.
